Summer Heat (Cruel Summer #1)(14)

Because Marlo was right. I needed an agent. My parents said the only way I could move to LA was if I already had an agent — basically the impossible. Though I’d at one point had one.

I shook the thought away.

Creep.

“Listen up,” I rubbed my hands together as nerves assaulted me. I wasn’t the type of person that liked public speaking let alone teaching something I wasn’t good at. Thanks Marlo. “I’m going to go over the choreography syllabus for the first month of camp and then we’re going to do some stretching before starting in on Jazz.”

Groans were heard throughout the group making me smile. “I know, I know, it’s not the easiest to start with — it’s no hip hop or contemporary but this is Broadway not So You Think You Can Dance, all right.”

Teens shrugged.

Some nodded.

Others looked at the glass behind me and primped their hair. Nice.

I went through the syllabus as fast as possible and then plugged in the class iPad and put on the Chicago soundtrack. I had to teach everyone Fosse moves of Jazz. Fantastic.

All That Jazz started in the background. I remembered the steps from the year previous when we did a compilation of the most popular Broadway dances for our senior project.

At least whoever assigned me to this knew that I could battle my way through it.

I breezed through the steps on the iPad and then turned to face the class. “I want you guys to listen to the entire song before we start on the steps. It’s not a normal eight count the way you guys are used to, so close your eyes and envision, then I’ll show you the entire thing. We’ll work on the first few steps starting with learning how to snap your fingers and flick your wrists.” There, that sounded good, right?

And cue the crickets.

And boredom.

Great. I could almost feel the strike against me.

And as luck would have it, the minute the end of the song came, Marlo walked in. Just in time to see my performance.

He leaned against the door and nodded to me as if I needed permission to continue with my own class.

I gritted my teeth, ready to start, and then an evil idea hit me. It’s not like I wanted him to suffer, okay so maybe a little bit. “Marlon! What an honor that you’d visit our class first!”

His eyes narrowed as he looked between me and my slack jawed pale teens. “You can continue, Ray.”

“Oh but wouldn’t it be super fun to demonstrate… together?” I could have sworn he flinched when I said together.

I could barely suppress my smile as the teens started to clap.

“See?” I spread my arms wide. “Marlon, Marlon, Marlon!” I was so going to Hell for this. His look said he was daydreaming about strangling me.

I expected him to say no.

Expected him to ask “for a word” with me.

Instead, he dropped the iPad onto the ground along with his ball cap and then ran his hands through his thick silky hair.

I gulped.

His shirt was so tight I could see his eight-pack.

Did the guy even enjoy food anymore or just survive off of air, protein shakes, and the tears of people who defied him?

“Sounds good.” He nodded.

A few of the girls in the front row gasped. One was lamenting about not having her phone so she could stare at the pictures later. I made a mental note to protect Marlo from the little creeper in pink.

Not that it was my job or anything.

“Ready?” I was still waiting for him to back down, please let him back down from this very intense and somewhat sexually explicit dance. Please. God. Please not on this day. Not today! My hand hovered over the play button.

“If you are.” Was it my imagination or had his voice always been that deep and raspy? My girly parts cheered. I told them it was a false alarm. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t real.

“Great,” I said with fake vibrato. Well, shit. I pressed play and faced the class and tried not to tense when he stood next to me.

Within seconds, we started the beginning of the dance, snapping fingers, twisting wrists. I fought to keep his timing — because of course, it was impeccable.

It was like he was born to dance.

Damn him.

He turned to me, braced my hips as I bent completely backward, then he spun me around so my ass was pressed against him. I could feel every inch of him. My body buzzed while my mouth went dry, his hand ran down my cheek, down my breast and to my hip as he pushed me into the next movement with his body. I was cocooned in his sexual web and I wanted to stay there forever.

My breaths came out in gasps as I tried to focus on the music and not his warmth. He dipped me back again, his hand slowly running between my breasts as we made our way into the next part of the dance.

Sweat ran down my temples.

It was completely brought on by him.

His touch was driving me insane. His nostrils flared as he twirled me in his arms. We were to the floor part of the routine. I crawled toward the crowd as he crawled toward me and then spun me onto my back in a straddle. Holy mother of God I was having sex with my clothes on in front of eighteen-year-olds, most of whom had absolutely no social life and probably hadn’t even had their first kiss.

Yup, hell was waiting for me.

I probably had a table with my name on it.

Right next to Marlo’s.

He pulled me to my feet as we completed the dance, me in his arms, his mouth pressed against my neck. Both of our chests heaving.